Seven Years
by sapphire-child
Summary: It's been seven years and Charlie is getting used to being alone. AU


Title: Seven Years  
Warning: drug use and implied sex  
Spoilers: up to 2x20  
Summary: It's been seven years now and Charlie's getting used to being alone. AU.  
Disclaimer: Man I wish all these people/events/whatever's belonged to me but…they don't. So woe for me and yey for JJ Abrams, ABC and others.

* * *

'Do you reckon this heat wave is ever going to stop?' Claire shifted the strap of her singlet as she walked, holding Aaron sparingly. It was far too hot for him to be in anything but a diaper and she herself was only wearing a pair of shorts and a singlet top, which she had folded up so that her stomach was exposed. Likewise, Charlie had abandoned all pretence and was currently residing in nothing but a pair of jeans cut off at the knee and a shoulder bag stocked with water bottles.

'Dunno love,' he pushed his sweaty fringe out of his face and gave a great huffing sigh. 'I hope so. I'm really not doing well with all this heat.'

Claire rolled her eyes at him. 'That's because you grew up in England you twit. You're used to rain and snow not heat and humidity.' She walked a few more paces before adding; 'I can't say I really blame you though. Even I reckon it's too hot. Can we stop for a second and take a drink?'

'Sure.' Charlie pulled out a water bottle and took a swig. 'I just wish the rain would come back,' he sighed heavily as he held the bottle out to her. Claire took it and knocked back a draught. 'Do you remember when it used to just start pouring for no apparent reason?'

'Mmmn,' she wiped her chin with her hand. 'That'd be nice right about now.'

They continued walking as Charlie replaced the water bottle in his bag.

'It's not the heat that's really bad,' Charlie offered after a while, stepping forwards to push a branch out of Claire's way. 'It's the bloody humidity. I've been sweating non stop for the past fortnight.'

'I can see _that,'_ Claire chuckled, eyeing his bare chest where trickles of sweat were running down the skin. 'It's getting so I can _smell_ you from a mile away.'

'Excuse me?' Charlie caught up beside her, slightly breathless. 'Are you saying that I _smell bad?'_

Claire's eyes sparkled. 'Well…'

Charlie huffed. 'I'd like to see _you_ try and keep smelling nice all the time,' he said accusingly. 'It's a proven fact that men sweat more than women.'

'Uh huh,' Claire said vaguely.

'But anyway, I thought the smell of sweat was meant to produce pheromones or something?' Charlie mused to himself. 'Although if that were the case you should be all over me right now and you're not…'

'Not stale sweat,' Claire made a face. 'That just smells like unwashed body – which is not sexy. At all.' She looked pointedly at him and he snorted.

'I blame the weather,' Charlie said stoically. 'Partially my chromosomes but mostly the weather. I promise as soon as it stops being so hot I'll go and have a good proper wash and then I might actually smell okay for a few hours at least.' He chuckled but then realised quite suddenly that Claire was no longer with him. 'Claire?' he turned back to her but she was gazing avidly into the jungle and appeared unable to hear him. 'Claire what's wrong?'

'Shh…' she held up a hand for silence, still not turning around. 'I think I hear something…'

Charlie felt his stomach cinch with a sudden fear. If anything happened out here, when they had Aaron with them…

'What?' Charlie snuck up beside her. 'What do you hear?'

…What if they had to run for it? What if it was the Others again?

'Don't you hear that?' Claire turned to him, wide eyed. 'It sounds like wings – lots and lots of wings…'

'Like...a swarm of bees?' he said helpfully.

'No…' Claire looked back out into the jungle.

'Claire…'

'Shh,' Claire said impatiently. 'Let me lis-'

A tree not five metres from them was ripped up from the roots and Charlie felt the familiar terror spring to the fore.

'_Run.'_

Claire didn't need to be told twice.

They belted through the trees, Claire pressing Aaron into her chest as hard as she could without hurting him. Charlie hurtled past her only to turn and urge her on.

It was gaining on them.

'Run Claire!'

She was gasping as she ran; he could hear her frantic footfalls just behind him.

The monster gave a roar and he put on a sudden, terrified burst of speed…

Charlie spat out a mouthful of dirt and pushed himself backwards onto his hands and knees. His mouth felt gritty and he flailed at his tongue with his hands for a few moments before heaving a great sigh and glancing around.

It looked like dawn was just breaking. Most people were still asleep except a select few who were setting about their usual early-morning routines. There were more people here at the caves now than at the beach, if for no other reason than it _felt_ safer. The constant attacks from the Others had thinned their ranks and left them with severe trust issues.

Charlie huddled back into his small corner and fished a small plastic bag out of his belongings, glancing around swiftly before quickly opening it and doing the deed before anyone saw him. He knew from experience that although everybody knew about his addiction, they still didn't want to see him snorting away in a corner. It wasn't _really_ about being ashamed or worried about what anybody thought.

Claire was dead. And Aaron along with her to boot. Why would he bother trying to stay clean when the only thing that might have been able to ground him was gone forever?

The nightmare and the memory began to fade a little as the drugs began to filter into his system. He allowed his eyes to slip out of focus as his mind wandered.

He wondered what the weather would be like later, wondered whether he could be bothered to go fishing, whether he could find someone willing to talk to him that he might be able to have a decent conversation with…

The thought stopped him for a moment and he frowned. Who was it that still talked to him? Not many people that was for sure, but there was at least one who had always liked talking to him, who he had always liked talking to…

_Claire._

He banished the thought as soon as it appeared. _Why_ did she always come into his head like this? It was bad enough that she'd died, leaving him to grieve the love he'd never adequately managed to show her. What was worse was that he didn't remember her death, as he'd been unconscious at the time. They'd never actually found her body. But that didn't mean that she was still alive. If she was still alive she would have come back by now. After all, if she couldn't find the caves she should at least be able to follow the beach back to him…

_The beach._

He was on his feet before he realised what he was doing and slung his backpack onto his shoulders. He swayed a little on his feet as he stepped forward, but then his pace became more decisive.

He was going to go to the beach.

'Charlie?'

He turned slowly to the source of the voice to find a sleep-addled Jack blinking up at him.

'Where're you going Charlie?'

'To the beach,' Charlie said meticulously.

'The beach…' Jack watched him closely and then nodded slightly. 'Be careful in the jungle Charlie. Especially like this, you won't be as aware as you usually are.'

Charlie waved an impatient hand. 'I know how to handle being in the jungle like this Jack, I've done it enough times now.'

Jack nodded again, his sleepiness becoming sadness as Charlie loped towards the entrance of the caves. Jack's voice followed him, melting softly into Charlie's drug-addled mind.

'Take care of yourself Charlie.'

* * *

The beach was depressingly hot when Charlie finally emerged from the jungle. Already everyone had retreated back into their shelters, withdrawing their heads back into their comfortable shells. Charlie however, took a malicious delight in going right down to the water and sitting in the burning sand for a while. The heat made him feel dizzy but good at the same time as it began to warm the part of him that always seemed to feel cold.

When noon hit, he decided it was probably going to get a bit too hot and he made his way over to one of the communal shelters kept strictly for visitors to the beach. It had been _their_ shelter once – until he had given it up for the caves where there were less sad memories. It hadn't taken long for his beach home to become occupied by an oppurtunistic type. Within a month the tent was vacant again – its new tenant had drowned.

'So much death,' Charlie murmured to himself as he stretched out comfortably on the sand. 'So many people gone now...'

The main high from the heroin had well and truly worn off now – his dizziness was due to his prolonged exposure to the sun alone now. Bored with his sobriety already, Charlie pulled out the tiny plastic bag from his pocket and opened it with clumsy fingers, shaking a liberal amount onto his palm. He paused and frowned – there was far too much heroin on his hand for a safe dosage but when he tried to pour some of it back into the bag he nearly spilled it into the sand. He went berserk, swearing madly at the powder and cupping one hand over the precious powder, glancing around furtively in case anyone had seen him.

He had a very limited supply of the drug – certainly there was a fair few statues that had survived the fire and Sawyer's possession so long ago. The thing was, he had been using again for almost six months now at a slowly increasing rate and his stash was almost gone. He wasn't quite sure what he'd do when he did run out – as was inevitable. The drug had been numbing his heartache for so long now he decided that he'd probably have to go and jump off a cliff during his last high. Throwing caution to the winds (the familiar pain had settled into his chest again) Charlie leant over his palm and inhaled deeply.

The buzz hit him as hard and sudden as a freight train and his face actually split into a grin – it was the best high he'd had in a long time. But after a minute or two he began to feel a little bit strange – dizzy and light headed, and not just from the heat. The sun melted the roof of his shelter until it was beating down on him directly; sweat pouring off his body in salted rivulets. Charlie lay himself down falteringly – _what the hell?_ – and waited for the high to wear off.

When he opened his eyes next it was dark outside and he was shivering like a mad thing, his stomach churning and rolling around inside him in some sort of sick acrobatic dance. He rolled over and emptied the meagre contents of his stomach into the sand, his muscles convulsing long after he had finished. He fumbled for his bag, pulled forth his trusty old hoodie and wrapped it around his shaking shoulders.

'Too much,' he whispered, surprised at his voice and the dry rasp in it. He licked his lips and found them dry and cracked, practically bleeding. 'I had too much.'

'Yes. You did have too much.'

Charlie's head snapped up, his neck bent at a horribly awkward angle to see who was sitting behind him. He gaped at the apparition there, a young woman, and a sudden chill clawed up and down his spine. This was a dream. It had to be.

'Claire?' Charlie's voice cracked as he reached for her, his hands fumbling and trembling against the sand. Claire took his hands and warmed them, her blue eyes bright in the moonlight. She looked older than he remembered – her skin was slightly crinkled and paper fine with age and wear. The lines around her eyes were new to her face and her hair was cut back to her shoulders but there was no mistaking her, the touch of her hands. Even her scent brought memories rushing back...

And then she spoke.

'Hello Charlie,'

And with only those two words, Charlie burst into anguished sobs. 'You died!' he hissed through his tears, his voice bordering on a hysterical whisper. 'You're dead!'

'I didn't die,' Claire reassured him. 'I'm not dead.'

'Then why didn't you come back to me?'

Her eyes spoke volumes, the sadness in them taking substance and trailing down her cheeks. 'I couldn't Charlie. I'm sorry.'

Charlie buried his face in her hands, the vile taste of vomit still in his mouth.

'I wanted to Charlie. You've got to know that I _wanted_ to come back – I just couldn't.'

'Why?' Charlie rocked his head back, his tear-blurred vision coming to rest on her care worn face. 'Why?'

But even as Claire tried to explain he found himself slipping back and away from consciousness. He clung desperately to her hands, gasping for air to fuel his tears, needing an answer. 'Why? Why'd you leave me? Why? Claire…'

Someone was sponging his brow with a cool cloth when his eyes opened again, hours later. She was still there, her skin a pale blue in the early morning light as she carefully touched the cloth to his head and cooled his fevered brow.

'You're still here,' he said, amazed, and then promptly rolled over and vomited into the sand again. Claire rubbed his back until he had finished and then helped him lie back down and sponged the sick out of his beard.

'You've gotten quite scruffy in my absence, haven't you?' Claire chided him gently as she focused on her task. Charlie hardly dared to breath, savouring the feel of her fingertips against his skin. They were rough – a little more calloused than what he remembered, but he honestly didn't care. His eyes fell shut, an agony of pleasure when she began to stroke his long, lank curls back from his eyes. It had been forever since he'd washed his hair – let alone cut it. He usually just pulled it back and tied it with a piece of frayed twine and that was that. 'And you're trembling something awful. You started using again.'

His eyes flickered open but she didn't look or even sound accusing. 'Yeah.'

'Is it because of me?' Claire asked, her voice betraying her guilt. 'Because I left?'

'Lasted six and a half years,' Charlie mumbled. He didn't feel ashamed exactly – just like he needed to justify himself a little. 'Hiked a lot. Kept m'self busy – helped Eko with the church. But he… six months ago… I haven't been back there since. Rose does a service on Sundays but I don't go.'

'Why not?' Claire resumed her stroking of his hair. 'You always loved the services. You always loved that church. You put so much of yourself into it…'

'When everybody you really care about goes from your life and you don't know why, that rocks your faith a bit,' Charlie said bitterly and then wished he hadn't – the words had left him feeling slightly sicker than before. 'My faith hadn't been strong for a long while, anyway.'

Charlie closed his eyes. When he opened them he didn't know if it had been three seconds or three hours that had passed but Claire was still there, watching over him.

'Where's Aaron?' he asked.

Claire's face broke into a sad smile. 'I was wondering when you'd ask. He's waiting for me to come back. He's not far – would you like to see him?'

Charlie sat up eagerly then wished he hadn't when his head did a dizzying whirl. 'Course I would!'

Claire shushed him quickly. 'You can only see him for a little while then we'll have to be off. It's nearly dawn…'

'Off?' Charlie echoed blankly. '_Off?_ You're…leaving me?'

'I'll be back tomorrow when everyone else is asleep.' Claire reassures him. 'Now do you want to see Aaron or ask me twenty questions and not see him?'

Charlie didn't say anything and Claire stepped out of the tent. For a full thirty seconds, Charlie did nothing but breathe and count 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

Charlie thought that he'd be alright, that he'd be able to take this reunion a little easier than Claire's sudden reappearance but the reality of the tent flap opening and a small blonde head stepping in gave him such a shock that for almost a full minute he forgot to breathe.

'Aaron.'

The boy regarded him silently for a long moment and then came close enough to kneel next to him. Charlie ached to reach out and touch him – to hold him. There was nothing left of the tiny baby he had known and loved. All grown up, he was the image of his mother, crystal blue eyes and wild blonde curls. For a long moment, neither of them moved and then Aaron placed his arms around Charlie's neck and pressed his cheek into his hair.

'Hullo daddy,'

His voice was husky and low for a seven year old – an anomaly and a half. Charlie found himself wrapping the child into his arms, crying quite silently against the faded shirt the child wore – this was all getting to be too much and he felt exhausted and giddy all at once.

'I think its time we let Charlie sleep,' Claire instructed after a finite moment. 'Come on Aaron.'

Aaron let go only reluctantly. 'I always wanted to meet you,' he confessed in a hushed whisper. 'But we weren't allowed.'

'Come _on_ Aaron,' Claire said, a little more forcefully. 'The sun's almost up.'

They were gone as quietly and quickly as they'd come. Charlie struggled to sit up and tried to muster enough strength to follow them but he didn't get much further than the door before the dizziness overtook him and he collapsed onto the sand, face first. He clawed pathetically at the ground, his mouth full of sand, his eyes full of unshed tears, and finally he managed to roll onto his back.

Exhausted, he closed his eyes.

He opened them to a burning blue sky and somehow managed to drag himself back inside before his face got burnt too badly.

He opened them to the roof of the tent, rolled onto his side and dry retched until he was exhausted and fell back into sleep.

He opened them to a world of darkening shadows and he watched them twist sinuous shapes in the corners for a long time before falling back into darkness.

He opened them and found a small, cool hand pressing against his forehead and a pair of bright blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

'Mummy told you we'd be back,' Aaron whispered. 'I missed you daddy.'

* * *

For two more days Charlie slipped in and out of consciousness and lucidity. By day he toyed with the sand beneath him or hid from the glare of the sun. By night he waited impatiently for Claire and Aaron's return and slowly he got better, with very small, regular doses to keep him from going into the most horrendous withdrawal in his history as a drug user. The overdose symptoms began to wane and he began to feel a little stronger.

On the fourth night Claire came alone.

'Where's Aaron?'

'He's not coming tonight,' Claire murmured worriedly, twisting her hands together anxiously. 'He was too tired. I left him sleeping. I probably can't stay long anyway.'

There was a long, tense silence that wound itself around them for a good thirty seconds before Charlie spoke.

'Can I ask something?' he murmured.

Claire looked sceptical. 'You can. I retain the right to not answer though.'

Charlie paused to process this before continuing. His mind was still feeling a little sluggish. 'What happened that day?' Claire sucked in a shaky breath – she'd been expecting this. 'I think I have a right to know. After everything…'

Claire pulled in another slow breath. 'Yes you do. But I can't tell you everything – I'm still not quite sure what happened myself.'

She paused for a long moment to collect her thoughts before beginning.

'We were out on a walk, the three of us, when we heard the monster.' Claire's voice was tentative and soft, and she suddenly reached out and took his hand. 'We began to run. Do you remember?'

'Yes,' Charlie closed his eyes. 'I remember.'

'We were running and then…you fell.' The pressure on his hand increased. Claire sounded like she was about to cry. 'I didn't realise at first, I kept running past you. When I noticed you weren't with me I tried to go back. I saw you lying on the ground – there was blood in your hair and I realised that you must be unconscious and I was about to go to you but then something – or somebody – hit me from behind.'

Charlie held his breath.

'I was knocked out,' Claire continued. 'When I woke up I was in a holding facility. They kept me locked in there for weeks – they kept Aaron from me. I nearly went insane in there, trying to get out, to get to him.'

'Who was it?' Charlie croaked, his eyes flickering open. 'Who was holding you Claire?'

Claire ignored his question and continued to speak.

'They had to keep sedating me. Eventually they drugged me up enough that I was cooperating. They let me see Aaron – I was so glad to have him back that I promised that I wouldn't try to escape anymore. I kept my word – they began to trust me slowly and I was allowed to live amongst them, in their camp. They watched me all the time though. I couldn't get away and even if I could have I wouldn't have.'

'Why not?' Charlie challenged, suddenly angry. 'Why not try and escape? You could have come back to us, told us about them! We could have wiped the whole lot of them out!'

'How could I escape with Aaron?' Claire said helplessly. 'Please Charlie, you've got to understand…'

'How can I understand?' Charlie's voice cracked. 'How am I meant to understand that the woman I love gave up on me?'

Claire's eyes were shimmering with tears now, her voice trembling although she was clearly trying to keep her emotions under control. 'I wanted to come back Charlie – I really did. I missed you – I missed you terribly but I had to take care of Aaron. I couldn't let anything happen to him. And what if I had escaped? You all thought I was dead! I would have been under suspicion of being a spy…it just got harder and harder to come back. And now…' She shook her head. 'I can't ever come back. They made sure of it.'

Charlie turned his face away but Claire touched his jaw lightly and turned his face back to her. She pressed her palms against his cheeks and gazed earnestly at him.

'I wanted to come back. You've got to know that Charlie. I just couldn't.'

'Couldn't?' Charlie questioned. 'Or wouldn't?'

The two of them were frozen for a long moment, Claire's hands rough-smooth against his face and then she leant down and pressed her lips against his. Despite himself, Charlie immediately pressed against her lips, pouring all the love and hurt and sorrow seven years of heart break had brought into this one kiss. It was unlike any other kiss they had ever shared and as Claire responded in kind Charlie found himself truly believing that she regretted everything that the two of them had missed when she had disappeared.

When they ran out of air, they paused to gasp for breath and then everything seemed to go into fast forward. Hands moved frantically across bare skin, lips whispered feverish words and both of them trembled uncontrollably as they found themselves again.

* * *

Charlie opened bleary eyes to find himself face down in the dirt. One eye seemed temporarily blinded by blood – apparently he had hit his head with enough force to knock open the old scar on his forehead again.

There was a concerned hand resting on his back and his first thought was that the monster had moved on, that Claire was sitting here with him, waiting for him to regain consciousness. He rolled himself over with some difficulty and his heart dropped down into the pit of his stomach at the sight of dark curls and shapely eyebrows.

'Kate?'

'Just lie still now Charlie,' Kate said soothingly. 'I've sent Sawyer back to get Jack but we don't know if you've broken anything or not.'

'If I'd broken something I think I'd be in more pain,' Charlie said grimly, his eyesight fading in and out as Kate took a piece of towelling out of her backpack and applied it to his head wound. Charlie hissed at the pain but didn't say anything. 'My eyes are a bit fuzzy though. I think I bonked my head pretty hard. Maybe I have a concussion or something?'

'Maybe,' Kate pursed her lips in concentration and Charlie took the opportunity to continue.

'Where's Claire?'

Kate shrugged nonchalantly. 'She was at her shelter this morning – I assume that's where she is now as well.'

'No, hang on,' Charlie struggled to sit up despite Kate's protests. 'She was with me. We were being chased by the monster and…'

'She was with you?' Kate frowned. 'Well…she's not here now.'

Charlie's insides went glacial. 'You haven't seen her at all?'

'You were out for a while before we found you,' Kate offered. 'Maybe we missed her coming in the opposite direction?'

Charlie staggered to his feet and whipped around, beginning to call out to the silent jungle.

'Claire! Claire?'

'Charlie!' Kate tried to hold him still as he staggered sideways and nearly ran headlong into a tree. 'Sit down or you're going to hurt yourself! I'm sure Claire's fine; she probably got scared and just kept running. She'll be back soon.'

'What if she's lost her way?' Charlie said frantically, feeling woozy and ill. He stumbled out of Kate's grasp only to fall to his knees. 'Claire! We're over here! Claire…'

'Charlie...' Kate took a hurried step towards him as he collapsed on the ground, sobbing wildly. 'Charlie?'

'She's gone! It's taken her!' Charlie wailed as Kate pressed the piece of towel back to his forehead. 'What if it's taken her and Aaron Kate? Oh God…'

'Don't worry about that for now,' Kate said firmly, trying to stay calm but flinching nonetheless when Charlie grabbed her arm and squeezed it hard, searching for some semblance of comfort but finding none.

The rest of the memory was blurred. Jack's voice, his face hovering, the sensation of being carried and the feel of a cool compress against Charlie's aching, bleeding forehead…

Charlie gasped and opened his eyes again, Jack's face swimming into view.

'Charlie?'

'Claire?' but even as he turned his head, even as he said the name, he knew already that she wasn't there.

Jack wrinkled his brow at Charlie. 'What?'

'Where's Claire?' Charlie croaked, surprising himself. When had his throat become so dry? Jack offered him a container of water but Charlie knocked it aside, spilling the precious contents.

'Hey, hey,' Jack looked honestly confused now. 'What's your problem Charlie?'

'Claire was here,' Charlie tried to sit up but his head did a dizzying spin and he fell back into his pillow. 'She…she was looking after me…she…'

'Charlie,' Jack said, very calmly and clearly. 'Claire's dead. She's been dead for nearly seven years now.'

'What?' Charlie murmured, a frown creasing his forehead. 'No…no you're…you're wrong. She was _here_ Jack…'

'You had a major overdose Charlie,' Jack interrupted calmly. 'Do you remember taking the heroin?'

'I….yes I do but _Jack_…'

'You must have been hallucinating,' Jack continued, his voice almost droning now. Charlie caught only some of his usual doctor spiel – overdose, hallucinate, things that aren't real…

'I burned the rest of it so you can't do it again.' Jack concluded, standing to leave, a water container in his hand. 'I'll be back in a few minutes with some water for you okay? You're in for a rough time.'

Charlie lay quite still, his hands clenching and unclenching the sand beneath him while he waited for Jack to return. There were flies buzzing somewhere nearby. The sun was blazing overhead. There was something tucked into his pocket – something that gleamed golden white…

Charlie reached a shaking hand into his pocket, withdrawing a single golden curl bound at one end with twine. When Jack came back with the water, it was to find Charlie in a state of near hysteria, almost choking on his own sobs as they tore from his throat and something grasped tightly in his hand.

The next morning, Charlie Pace was gone from his tent and the remaining survivors of the crash of Oceanic Flight 815 would never see him again.


End file.
